How Will You Fix Me Now?
by m0nsterinthemirr0r
Summary: Blaine may not have to deal with bullying anymore, but he still struggles with the memories and nightmares. Until he finds a way to relieve them, at least temporarily. Warnings: Drugs and coarse language. Possibly other mature themes in future chapters.


**A/N: I'm a terrible person. Why am I always so mean to Blaine in my stories? The title is from Fix Me by Marianas Trench.**

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><p>Blaine shrugs into his blazer and stands in the doorway of his room, eyes closed, trying to resist the urge to run back to his dresser, where those little pills are hidden, the ones that can erase everything; every feeling, every memory, every thought. But no, he tells himself firmly, he needs to focus, just long enough to get to the Senior Commons. He can't afford to get kicked out of the Warblers; singing is the only thing that keeps him going.<p>

It's a completely different feeling than the drugs he takes, but it has the same effect overall. Singing doesn't numb him – quite the opposite; it makes him feel alive – yet it still helps him forget the past. That's the reason he started singing in the first place.

At his old school, bullies roamed the halls; their main goal making Blaine feel like absolute shit. He had run home everyday, feeling miserable and worthless. He would thank God the day was over, climb the stairs to his room, and put on one of his many favourite CDs.

At first, he had just listened, letting the music soothe his broken soul, letting it build up in his veins and give him the strength to keep living. Soon, that wasn't enough – he had to be a part of the music. And so he would hum along, and finally he started to sing, until he was belting out the lyrics and every horrible feeling from earlier flew from his mind. Suddenly, none of it mattered. He was just Blaine. It was just him and the music; no one could touch that. It was a wonderful feeling that left Blaine feeling invincible…until the next school day.

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><p>The noise in Dalton's main hall is a soft buzz, easy to tune out as he walks the well-known path down to the senior commons. He's almost made it when a voice breaks through his thoughts, and he turns to see an unfamiliar face standing on the bottom step. It takes Blaine a minute to figure out what he's saying. <em>Question… New here…<em> Blaine struggles to bring himself back to reality.

"My name's Blaine," he says, the first thing that comes to mind, and extends his arm.

"Kurt." The boy takes his hand. "What exactly's going on?"

"The Warblers!" Blaine exclaims, explaining all about their performances for the school. The boy – Kurt – seems surprised.

"Come on." He grabs Kurt's hand. "I know a shortcut."

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><p>"I ran, Kurt." Blaine looks down into the depths of his coffee cup. Memories, a million of them, come rushing back as he opens up to this boy he barely knows. He tries to push them back into the shadowy corners of his mind but they refuse; they stand their ground in the forefront of his thoughts. Blaine feels powerless, even against his own mind. There's nothing he hates more than losing control, feeling exposed, but he continues, for Kurt's sake. "I didn't stand up. I let bullies chase me away, and it is something I really, really regret." He looks back up at Kurt, and realizes the boy's eyes aren't on his own; they watch the hand wrapped around Blaine's cup.<p>

"Are you alright?" Kurt asks, looking worried. "Your hand is shaking."

Blaine swallows hard and drops his hands into his lap, out of sight. "I'm fine." He says shortly, and stands. "I've actually got to go." He pushes a slip of paper across the wooden tabletop with trembling fingers. "Here's my number if you ever need anything. Don't hesitate to call."

Kurt looks like he wants to say something else, but lets it go as he takes the paper, standing up and gathering his things together.

Blaine doesn't wait for him. He leaves as quickly as possible without looking suspicious. He walks up to his room, jogging a little when the halls are empty, and slams the door as soon as he's inside.

Blaine looks around his room to make sure his roommate isn't in. Unsurprisingly, he isn't. He never is, unless it's after curfew.

Blaine's hands are shaking badly now, but he somehow manages to wrestle the pills out of the little bag, and throw them down his throat. He collapses onto his bed, waiting for the beautiful numbness to overtake his mind and body.

A quiet beep comes from the pocket of his blazer and he pulls out his phone to see "One New Message" flash across the screen.

_Thank you for talking to me today._

_- Kurt_

Blaine sighs and drops his phone next to him. He can't even remember what he'd said. What does he know about standing up and confronting bullies? He's just a scared little boy who runs from his problems. He'd run to Dalton when he couldn't take the bullying at his school anymore. He'd turned to drugs when the memories and nightmares still haunted him. He's always running, always finding ways to escape, never facing his problems. Who the hell is he to tell Kurt to be strong when he is the weakest person he knows?

A tear leaks out the corner of his eye and runs down his cheek. He wipes it away hastily and curls up on his side with his knees to his chest. He relaxes when the wave of warm nothingness finally washes over him.

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><p>"How's that kid?" David asks Blaine in biology the next day. "He looked really upset."<p>

"I haven't spoken to him since yesterday," Blaine sighs. He hadn't even responded to Kurt's text the night before. He'd had no idea what to say without spewing more bullshit about standing up and being brave.

Or maybe that isn't the reason he doesn't want to talk to Kurt. Maybe it's because Kurt is being bullied constantly at school, and still manages to walk around with his head held high. Blaine can't even bear the memories of his past. Blaine can't last a day in a place where he's perfectly safe without turning to the numbness to help him through. Blaine is a coward. He's weak and spineless and pathetic.

"You should see how he's doing. Text him or something," David prods.

"David, just leave it."

Still, after class is dismissed, Blaine pulls out his phone. He can tell that Kurt isn't one to let down his defenses easily, but he had, for Blaine. The least he can do is respond to a text.

He can't think of anything to say until the warning bell for his next class rings ten minutes later. He sends Kurt a single word, the one thing Blaine has never had. The one thing Blaine doubts he'll ever have.

_Courage_

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><p>Blaine doesn't hear back from Kurt until after school, though he checks his phone between every class, and so often at lunch that it looks like he has a nervous tick.<p>

Blaine doesn't hear back from Kurt until he's sitting on his bed, holding a couple of pills in his hand, for the first time ever actually debating whether or not to do it. They look so insignificant and harmless, the two small round tablets wrapped in his warm hand. His fist closes over them, hiding them from sight as he runs through different arguments in his head. Why he should take them, why he shouldn't. The reasons all start to melt together, and Blaine opens his fist again and stares, no closer to his decision, not even sure why he's considering the other options – he never has before.

He drops them when the first notes of California Gurls blast from his phone, and he scrambles to answer it.

"Hello?"

There's no reply on the other end, just a broken noise, between a sob and a sigh. Blaine pulls the phone away from his ear to check who's on the line.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" he asks.

"Um," is the answer he gets. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Caller ID. What's wrong?"

"He… He just… Are you busy right now? I hate to ask, but I need to talk to someone and I don't know who else to ask and –"

"Kurt, it's fine," Blaine interrupts, grabbing his car keys off the nightstand and shoving them in his pocket. "Where do you want to meet?"

"Anywhere, I don't care." Kurt's voice sounds thick, half choked. He lets out the smallest, almost inaudible, whimper.

Blaine freezes. "You're not hurt, are you?" Blaine asks, mind suddenly jumping to the worst-case scenario, only reinforced when Kurt doesn't answer right away.

"…No. No, I'm not hurt," Kurt finally says quietly.

Blaine starts breathing again. "Thank God," he murmurs under his breath, then adds, louder, "The Lima Bean? I can be there in an hour."

"See you then." The line goes dead and Blaine lowers the phone from his ear. He stares at those tiny white tablets laying on his navy bedspread for a second, then picks them up and replaces it in the top drawer of his dresser before leaving the room. He can last another couple of hours, for Kurt.

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><p>When Blaine walks into the Lima Bean, Kurt is already sitting at a table in the corner, two cups of coffee in front of him. Blaine rushes over, navigating through a maze of tables and chairs, trying to avoid knocking coffee from people's hands.<p>

Kurt looks up from whatever he's been staring at outside the window when Blaine pulls out the chair across from him. "I don't know what you drink, so I hope this is okay."

"You really didn't have to get me a coffee."

"It's the least I could do; you drove all the way here to talk to me." Kurt's voice sounds automatic and emotionless – almost robotic.

"Thanks," Blaine says, taking a sip. It's not his usual, but caffeine is caffeine. He waits for Kurt to begin. He doesn't.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Blaine prompts.

Kurt fidgets, playing with the coffee sleeve around his cup, eyes tracing the grain of the wooden table between them. He still doesn't say anything. Blaine waits patiently until Kurt finally finds the words he needs.

"You remember…that bully I told you about yesterday?" he asks, finally meeting Blaine's eye.

Blaine simply nods.

"I took your advice. I confronted him at school today."

"Really? What did he say?" Blaine can't keep the optimism out of his voice. He knows it's far-fetched and unrealistic, but he has a sudden mental image of this kid understanding a bit better and laying off on bullying Kurt. For a split second, Blaine has hope.

"He kissed me."

There's a beat of awkward silence. Then…

"_Oh,_"Blaine breathes. "He's a closet case, then?"

Kurt looks surprised for a second, confused, for a reason Blaine can't find or understand, and then his face falls expressionless once more. "I don't know. I guess so. I hadn't…honestly, I hadn't really thought much about that."

Blaine takes another sip of coffee, at a loss for what to say.

"So…what do you think I should do?" Kurt asks. Blaine considers this for a minute.

"Talk to him about it. He's probably really confused. I'll come with you if you'd like."

Kurt nods. "Please."

"Tomorrow morning, then."

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><p>It's only when Blaine returns to Dalton that he realizes what he agreed to. Standing up to bullies; that was never his strong suit. And yet, he had just promised this boy he barely knows that he would help him talk to this football player – Karofsky, he had called him – about coming out of the closet. This couldn't end well. It <em>wouldn't <em>end well.

He thinks about texting Kurt and calling the whole thing off – telling him to just leave it and let Karofsky figure things out on his own. But he simply can't. Backing out would be selfish and cowardly. Kurt would know then that all of Blaine's little inspirational self-help speeches had been complete and utter bullshit.

Even the drugs can't keep the nightmares away that night.

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><p><strong>AN: I've already got the second chapter half-written, so yes, this will be a multi-chaptered fic. I hope you enjoyed it enough to read more! Reviews are _greatly_ appreciated, if you would like to write one. **


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